'NO HIDING PLACE' - A PERSONAL MAP

RESPONDING TO TREZZA AZZOPARDI'S EPONYMOUS NOVEL

GEORGE SFOUGARAS 'NO HIDING PLACE' - A PERSONAL MAP

This is my personal response to the Digital Literary Atlas of Wales and its Borderlands Project, organised and co-ordinated by Dr Jon Anderson, Lecturer in Human Geography, Cardiff University and Dr Kieron Smith Research Associate School of Geography and Planning, Cardiff University.

George Sfougaras

Next two pages: Images from the screnprinted final piece.

This is my response to the book entitled 'No Hiding Place' by Trezza Azzopardi.

Trezza Azzopardi was born in Cardiff. She studied Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia and is currently a lecturer there.

Her acclaimed first novel, The Hiding Place (2000), is the story of a Maltese family living in Cardiff during the 1960s. It won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize and was shortlisted for both the Booker Prize for Fiction and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize (for fiction).

The book was also adapted for BBC Radio 4's 'Book at Bedtime' and has been translated into 14 languages. I was fortunate to be selected as one of 12 artists Trezza Azzopardi's father was from Malta and my that would be commissioned to respond family are Greek. This duality creates fertile through art to a book that is considered ground for asking interesting questions, but not significant in the Literary Landscape of Wales necessarily finding answers. There is a tension in and its Borderlands. too many allegiances and in belonging to two cultures and to none. When the title of the book was given to me, I was somewhat surprised. I had not read this I hungrily read the book and became book, although I had been aware of it having submerged into the emotional landscape of the been shortlisted for the Booker Prize. novel. The setting had a very distinct physical aspect. Tiger Bay, Bute Town, the slums of the I could not wait to read it, and when I did, I old Cardiff docks. Old Victorian houses in various could not put it down. It described a stages of decay provided the backdrop for a dysfunctional family, living in a socially deprived human drama that one could not but feel drawn area in Tiger Town in Old Cardiff, near the docks. into. The smells of the surroundings, the dull, The landscape was unfamiliar to me joyless houses, purely functional, and then only experientially, but very resonant in terms of the just so; the logistics of keeping a family, when the human drama, the human drama and the sense main earner is a gambling, immoral and self- of asphyxiating poverty. absorbed loser; the innocent descriptions of the horrors of paternal neglect and violence. In addition, aspects of the behaviour of members of the family were familiar to me I had to try and capture this quickly, and so over through my work as a teacher with young people the period of several days, a 'Map' of sorts facing challenging health and family emerged. In the next few pages, I present the circumstances. I share something with the process and explain elements of this work and its writer. A sense of being or having been part of links with the novel. another community and culture. How this project fits into my body of work.

I started to draw simple descriptive maps around May 2016. Their emergence and development were entirely unexpected. I can only suggest that they came from a deep need to revisit aspects of my past and to understand our family history. My mind turned to places and experiences that I have held onto, or more accurately filed for future reference. Echoes of my childhood and places half-remembered emerged in a simplified linear form, sometimes superimposed over archetypal faces of my younger self and my parents, or in the form of illustrations of places half forgotten, lost in time, or destroyed by war. A kind of alphabet that I had used in my previous graphic works became more clearly defined: boats are metaphors for change and transition, waves signify an arduous journey and trees stand for hope. Slowly this symbolism began to merge with remembered details of places and people from different times in my life, archival material and literature. Some time ago, I completed a series of prints which were grouped under the title 'Songs from My Father'. My father used to sing a lot to us when we were young, and I still remember the lyrics and melodies as if it was yesterday. My mother had stories of the family and of past times. Sometimes she told us fantastical tales of monsters and heroes, of historical happenings and myths.

In this portrait of my mother, I incorporated some of these stories and my memories of her. The text in the background is by my favourite Greek writer, Menelaos Lountemis. My first reaction to the book after I completed it and sat there considering what I had just experienced is hard to describe.

I had a sense of being wounded, or of something terrible having occurred to which I had been a witness, without realising it, and without the physical presence required to stop it.

'Skin' I thought. 'Skin' bruised, burned and cut, hurt but not cared for or loved. I wanted something that would give me that sense of organic matter and after a few sketches on paper and fabric, I decided to use large pasta sheets. These behaved in a very different way to paper and had the tactile quality of organic matter, or skin, without being grotesque.

Hard to work on and even harder to manipulate, my experiments of drawing on and then shaping the pasta felt worthwhile at first.

After a while, I found the perfect way to work on and shape the pasta, otherwise, it flakes, blisters and cracks as the temperature of the material changes. 'Frank' (right) ink on pasta sheet.

After a few experiments, however, I started to feel that this was not ideal. It felt somewhat forced and unpredictable.

The main issue in retrospect was the size of the sheets, which only allowed for very small oblong segments and therefore 'fragmented' the flow of an overarching design of a 'map' that would engage the viewer in a fluid way with aspects of the novel.

Further down the line I would actually cut up and re-assemble the final print, but that is explained later in this book.

Images opposite show the drawing on the pasta sheet, the 'moulding' of it over a metal rack, and finally, on the opposite page, the shaped, baked and fixed final outcome. I still had all the characters and ideas floating around in my head, of the abusive father, the poor disorientated and eventually irretrievably damaged mother and the sisters, each described through the eyes of the youngest Dolores, or Dol.

The writer's face was fresh in my mind as were facts about her early life in Cardiff and her background; both of these aspects, the Maltese/Welsh origins and the evocative imagery of decaying slum dwellings seemed to be central to any visual work.

I decided to move on to a larger format that would contain the many components of the novel. I used the face of the writer Trezza Azzopardi but simplified it into a graphic image. This allowed me to add detail to the shaded parts and still retain a likeness.

In the writer's eyes, one has to look hard, but within them, albeit only discernible with some effort is the face of a man in a flat cap in an urban landscape.

In the other eye, rows of decaying terraces await demolition. A cobbled street defines the shadow under the eye.

I had to draw the eyes first, to ensure a passable likeness, otherwise, I felt that I could not really proceed. I moved on from there, slowly 'flooding' the rest of the pen and ink drawing with details gleaned from reading the book. These are details which moved me, personally. For the greatest part, I worked either from imagination and improvised from archival images of Tiger Bay.

I worked straight on the paper using pen and archival ink.

Twice, I felt I needed to draw something out in pencil to get the fit right, or to ensure a more realistic facial expression. These areas are the curved row of the Terraced dwellings on the left of the drawing, and the father standing ominously over the rabbit in the top part.

You can see some more of the narrative drawings in the next two pages. Dolores holds up her burned hand. Fire is a destructive force in the novel.

Dolores keeping watch at the window. One of the neighbourhood boys. Frank working out his next scam. Poor, unsuspecting Salvatore. I did not want to draw the whole image out because I know that I sometimes lose momentum when doing so, and also, the outcome becomes less exciting. Drawing directly on the paper with indelible ink has an element of risk that I like and also makes me much more mindful as to where the composition takes me. In addition, it allows my first thoughts to be made permanent, on the paper. No dithering.

I think that when I draw in pencil the work has a much more considered look overall. I can rub out, redraw, recompose and reposition elements. I have found that this can sometimes result in much less visceral outcomes. So for me, it is a conscious choice in some of my work to capture my first thoughts without censorship and redrafting. This is what I wanted here and this is what I attempted to do. What happens, however, is that you accept your first draft, your first marks as your honest direct expression to a stimulus and then you have to live with your decisions, and of course your mistakes. I had to be particularly careful with the map of Tiger Bay and the surrounding areas taken from a late 60's map. This took up most of the lower part and was combined with Fran's harmed arm and Mary's strong but disquieting face.

Left: Fran's hurt arm, amongst the confussion of the decaying neighbourhood and the map of Tiger Bay. The writer's description of self-harm is both chilling and moving. Trezza Azzopardi has created a tense and unpredictable emotional landscape.The local area, the dark abandoned houses, the chaotic, hand-to-mouth existence and the sense of futility are laid out for us to examine with a detached, laconic, yet pin-sharp narrative.

The writer has defined a particular moment in time in the life of the decaying urban landscape, which is inseparable from the human misery and helplessness of the characters. Once the book has been read, the two become intrinsically linked in one's mind. Visiting the redeveloped Tiger Bay and Butte Street area, I was unable to shake off the imagery of Trezza Azzopardi's description. Like a palimpsest, the past was still perceptible through the veneer of modernisation. I decided to create several copies of the original, using screenprinting. I had the image split into four equal parts, that alluded to the window panes of Dol's house. Dol or Dolores was sometimes charged with keeping watch for her mum, and this seemed critical for hers and the whole family's tenuous survival.

I aged the paper afterwards by using diluted watercolour and tea, to stain and shade the image.

I wanted to create a feeling of vulnerability using the art materials. I bought some items of clothing, such as a vintage undergarment/slip, which I wanted to use as symbolic reference for the six sisters. I printed on the garment and drew on a shirt. I proceeded to illuminate these in order to add an additional element. I was aiming at a 'ghostly' aspect, and to reference the flames which caused such suffering in the novel. .

I visualised an installation within a darkened space, alluding to the dingy and oppressive interior of the households described.

I used lighting within the white garment (centre) and also superimposed another print (far right) to tone down the intensity and to add another layer of imagery/meaning.

I 'stained' the slip using acrylic paints, to age and discolour it. I wanted to introduce a sense of poverty and decay. (immediately to the left).

You can see some more of these explorations on the following pages.

I then proceeded to try different images, some archival, some from my work, applied digitally on clothing. These experiments can be seen over the next two pages.

Right: Digital image of pen and ink drawing on shirt.

Left: 'Ghost'. Painted shirt, cardboard and light source.

Overleaf: Digital images on garments.

It had been around three weeks, since I was invited to submit work and I had already, in my hurry to capture my initial thoughts before they 'flew away' completed several ideas. I was then able to visit Cardiff and discuss the outcomes with Jon and Kieron. I took a large number of photographs, trying to find the old Tiger Bay. Although buried well under a top layer of progress, a few shoots of the character of the old Bute street and the docks remain. On these pages are some of the hundreds of images I captured on my visit.

Top to bottom: Floatsome near the waterfront. Mosque just off Bute Street. The Pierhead Building. Norwegian Church.

Opposite clockwise from top: The Cardiff Experience building. Closed Bank Bute Street. St, Mary's Church Bute Street. St. Nikolaos Greek Orthodox Church Bute Street. Decaying splendour near the Millennium Centre.

Bute Street; old trade sign on disused building.

Disused crane on Bute East Dock. Above: Bute East Dock gentrification. I felt a sense of familiarity with the Bute Street area, which seemed full of contradictions: Quiet, resolute, boarded up, high-rised, impoverished, frayed, patched up, ignored and celebrated, invested, warm, neglected and propped up.

The Greek Church was moving for personal reasons. The area has been transformed, but the human landscape remains multicultural and working class. I saw a great similarity in terms of the sense of community seen in old documentaries of Tiger Bay. Human interaction with the local environment has changed with the changing social mores and expectations. The slums have been pulled down; yet something of the spirit of what was there, somehow refuses to budge.

All around, there is a sense of significant rebuilding programmes. After decades of neglect. Cardiff seems to be on steroids, with the Millennium Centre looming large and muscular over the old docks. I came away with a better understanding of the complex relationship and sense of nostalgia often expressed by old residents regarding the area. I revisited the image I had initially made as a response to the book and I stand by it, as an emotional first attempt, but since seeing Cardiff, I felt like I needed to take this work a little further.

I cut up and made the image into a foldable map, tearing the thick handmade paper rather than cutting it and reassembled it in sections (see photos). I used strong tape, leaving small gaps to enable the work to fold easily, and used flour to neutralise the glue of the tape in the gaps between each piece.

This made something quite different happen to the work, particularly when illuminated. This was far closer to what I wanted.

I used all the elements I had experimented with, to a greater or lesser extent. The original, heartfelt image, the segmented, folded quality of an emotional 'map', the light source and the flour.

I have also been inspired to make my own printing ink using local materials, such as coal, slate and soil, which I will use in future work.

I will combine the physical substance of a place with my work on personal maps. This is something which I believe will further enhanse future outcomes.

On this page the print is illuminated before housing in its final display case. On the right you can see the final piece is housed within a bespoke light box, which keeps it safe and accentuates the segmentation.

Undertaking this project has strengthened my belief that we need to look deeper into what constitutes a good life land what aspects of our lived environments testify to our values.

The old communities of Tiger Bay, the inspiration for this wonderful novel speak volumes for what happens to us as people when we are without direction and when the moral basis of our existence is shaken by poverty and violence. It also inadvertently points at State responsibility.

Tiger Bay was vilified in the press for the violence and unpredictability that existed there. How much of this was actually true and how much the result of ignorance and prejudice towards one of Great Britain's oldest multiethnic societies remains open to debate. Although like any port the area was a place of turbulence and change, the communities that lived there made real efforts to create a viable and stable environment in which to live.

The 'marks' we make as we pass through this life define who we are, what we want for ourselves and what we hold dear. They should be a testament to the inalienable belief that we should be creating a better world for future generations. In the novel each character left a 'mark'. These ranged from a self- inflicted cut, to an act of quiet kindness by one sister towards another; from the the taking of a life, to the indelible marks of emotional cruelty.

As we progress into an unknown tomorrow, human interaction with our environment and the communities and relationships we create, hold the key to the quality of our lives and ultimately, our very survival.

Cultural geography maps our values. Values we are willing to uphold if we are to grow emotionally as well as materially and technologically.

George Christos Sfougaras May 2017.

GEORGE SFOUGARAS FOR THE DIGITAL LITERARY ATLAS OF WALES AND ITS BORDERLANDS

2017